A peaceful haven far from war and strife.
Some warriors to Valhalla’s halls might go
And fight all day, and die. At evening, lo!
They’d wake again, and drink in the great hall.
Some men would sleep for ever at their fall;
Or with their fickle Gods for ever be:
So all was dark and dim. Poor heathens, see!
The Light ahead, the clouds that roll away,
The golden, glorious, dawning of the Day;
And in the birds, the flowers, the sunshine, see